My Little Princess
by shattered petal
Summary: During their time in the academy, Roy foolishly challenges Olivier to a dual, with entertaining consequences.


**author's note**: For a while now, I've always held the idea Olivier used to refer to Roy by a girl's name during their years in the academy. So I decided to finally write it, and I hope anybody who reads this enjoys the one-shot.

* * *

**Title**: My Little Princess  
**Genres**: Humour/Friendship  
**Rating**: K+

* * *

The sun would blister Roy Mustang's skin later, but he refused to buckle down. Approximately ten minutes ago a close friend of his, Smithy, had crumbled to his feet, complaining about spraining his ankle. So the black-haired male was left alone, fighting against the sheer pressure against the muscles of his thighs.

It was a typical exercise all cadets were forced to endure, but Roy was a determined boy and the finish line grew nearer and nearer. Each lap seemed longer, each puff of breath harder to release, and his chest felt like a ton of bricks. Even the most natural abilities were becoming a challenge and common sense would tell him to stop.

Of course common sense would now be considered a _gift_, and several minutes after the hour Roy finally came to a halt, heaving and puffing, sweat pouring down his forehead. At the time it seemed heroic and wise to join the military, but, right now, there was nothing righteous about it, and _if_ Roy decided to quit, he certainly wouldn't be the first.

Unfortunately his sergeant wasn't any less sympathetic and threatened to increase the amount of laps if none of these "lazy mutts" hurried their pace. Roy swallowed, licking his lips and looking around, spotting Smithy ahead, nursing his strained ankle. The male would have suggested someone find a doctor, but he knew better than to speak up.

When evening drew near, Roy and the others were dismissed to the changing room and the teenager soaked in cool water, closing his eyes and allowing the liquid to cleanse his body and mind.

Afterwards Roy dried himself, pulled on a t-shirt and black trousers before heading for the male's dorm. His legs ached tremendously and he was in desperate need of rest. During his journey, though, Mustang accidentally bumped into a familiar person. A lady he had known since the vulnerable age of four.

A grin shot up his face.

'Olivier.'

'Josephine, I was beginning to think you had burst into tears and gone home crying to dearest mummy already.'

Roy was immune to her taunts, even the feminine names she commonly threw at him. Walking beside the blonde, Mustang shoved his hands in his pockets and attempted to study the book in her hands.

Apparently she noticed because she tucked it into the other arm.

'Even if I did do such a thing, you'd miss me.'

Olivier stopped, turned to him then frowned. 'You're right. I would miss you.' She shrugged. 'There would be no one else to tease. Everybody here happens to have, _at least_, half a ball. Except you.'

'I've got so many balls you can't handle me.'

'No no, not the bouncy balls you kick around in your front garden, sweetheart, hoping your friend, who happens to be a stray dog, will play with you. I mean _real_, _metal_ balls. Men happen to have them, Clarissa.'

Roy snorted. 'What _balls_ have you been seeing? I've never seen metal balls before.'

Olivier rolled her eyes and continued her way. It didn't take long for Mustang to keep up, running a hand through his hair.

'You won't be calling me by a girl's name when I've kicked your ass.'

'Oh? So it _does_ hurt your feelings?' Olivier raised her eyebrows in fake concern.

'No, I––'

'Look, _Roy Boy_, it's time you start being independent and quit running off to mummy Christmas who probably serves you hot chocolate and a cookie in bed.'

_So what if she does?_ Mustang decided he'd best not say that, 'If you think I'm such a wuss, then how comes you refuse to swing your sword my way?' Olivier whipped her head around to glare at him, and the cocky smirk wavered a little. 'Oh stop being so sensitive. I meant your _metal_ sword.' He was mocking her from before, but did indeed wish to duel her.

Olivier smiled a little. 'I wouldn't want you to break a nail.'

'Please, I trim them.'

'That doesn't help your case, Betty, but––' Olivier paused to consider his challenge, '––Heck, I have nothing to lose. When are you next available? I wouldn't want to interrupt a tea date with your girlfriends.'

Roy shook his head. 'Don't worry. I'll tell them we'll have to postpone. Careful, though, there may be a little bitching directed your way.'

'I can handle a bitch, Fiona,' Olivier replied, flashing her gaze to meet his. 'Can _you_?'

She meant herself, and Mustang, despite appearances, was a smart guy. He knew her surprisingly well, and Olivier's ability with a blade was a gift. Roy had never witnessed such skill before, and maybe he was a fool to confronting her like this, but he was curious.

'Well, the last time I handled one I was thirteen and my opponent kept hitting me with a wooden sword. Quite a nasty piece of work.'

Olivier sniggered. 'I'll make sure you won't be the princess this time.' And before Mustang could respond, she quickened her pace, leaving the irritated boy in the fading darkness.

* * *

To Roy's surprise, it was Olivier who came to him first. Banging a fist against his door, she waited patiently for any male inside to show their face. Fortunately it was Mustang's, and she cocked a brow to discover there was lipstick staining his pale face. Before Roy could explain himself she said: 'Right, Sophie. I'll meet you in the training hall when you've finished making yourself look pretty.'

Clenching his fist, Roy closed the door when she left. Damn.

* * *

'It did go with your eyes.'

'Shut up, Olivier,' Mustang grumbled, snatching a blade from her. 'It wasn't my idea––'

'Well either you volunteered or were pulled into a grip lock by all the boys, and I am so miffed to have missed that.'

He rose a brow at her.

'It reminds me the time you "accidentally" took birth controls pills.'

'I don't want to get pregnant,' Roy excused himself.

What really happened was pills were dipped into his food, when it was actually for someone else. A girl, it so happened to be. He would never forget the expression on Olivier's face as soon as she discovered he was diagnosed with the drug. She hadn't ever heard anything so beautiful.

'So how much practise have you done, except watched me fight an invisible knight while you screamed for help in a pink dress––'

'Okay, I get it. I am a princess.'

Olivier dramatically pressed a hand against her heart. 'I've never been so proud of you, Anna.'

Roy unsheathed the blade, ignoring her, and threw the case aside. 'Right, let's get to this–– _Whoa_!' Before he could even register her movement, Olivier's side of the blade was pressed against his neck and he was off to one side, clinging to her sleeve to keep balance. 'You're getting excited.'

'I enjoy watching you scream.'

'I bet you do,' Roy winked. 'Although you screaming is far more enjoya––' The male was literally thrown aside, and he whammed into the opposite wall. 'I forgot how strong you are, my dear.'

'You always seem to forget the most important things, Jenny. For example, you always find it unnecessary to remember your education is more important than the style of your hair.' Olivier's gaze dropped to his chest. 'Mm, I'd say about an A cup.'

'I'd say about a Z cup–– _Ah!_' Roy stared wide eyed at the blade currently stuck into the wall, just above his head. Roy gulped.

'I missed on purpose, Joanna. And it's _okay_ to be jealous. Most girls are.'

Olivier grabbed his hand and heaved the male to his feet. Roy straightened his posture, gripping hold of the blade and focussing on the woman before him. To his irritation, Olivier was just too calm and it couldn't be clearer he was a piece of cake.

_Smug bitch_.

Roy charged forwards, and swerved before he met her, and attempted to swing the sword across her feet, but somehow Olivier knew his movements before he did, and the male was trapped against the wall again, one sword pointed at his stomach, the other at his forehead––

Wait what?

_How did she grab my sword? And __**when**_?

'This is fun,' Olivier said.

'You're such a show off.'

'Excuse me, I'm not the one who flicks their hair and attempts to reveal a non-existent cleavage.'

'I _do_ have a girlfriend.'

'So? Just be proud someone swings for the same gender around here.'

Roy sneered and kicked her, but missed. Olivier jumped back before he could harm her, and he folded his arms.

'What's the matter, princess? Are you going to have your mummy call mine and tell her just how cruel I've been to you?'

'This sword isn't long enough,' Roy chucked it aside, grinning. 'Mine's longer.'

'Nobody's sword is longer than mine.'

Roy cocked a brow. 'Show me.'

'No. You'll swoon and faint.'

'Like you did when you watched Hughes running the other day? "Oh, he's so handsome. Oh look at him move"––'

'_Roy_. That was you.'


End file.
